Leaving the wrecked warfield, Lizia and I ventured into the bright and polished hallways under the quarterdeck, where thoughts of terrors and death, in me at least, had been left behind. Doors to private cabins lined up the wall, knobs and rails coated in a shine, plank walls plastered under damask, and carpets of reddish shades under our soles, all a far cry from the dark cabins for slaves and azures in the waist.
We halted before a door greater than the rest and atop a staircase leading up to the level above. A lonely expression seemed to prevent Litzia from moving to the steps.
Help, timely or not, arrived from behind the door. A servant emerged from the upper floor, lively dining sound reached us from aloft. She greeted us, though not even Litzia seemed to recognize her.
She introduced herself as one of the maids assigned to Ala Estival, Litzia’s current squadron. Her former one, Ala Subsolanus, as I learned later on, had been mostly eliminated in the last battle.
“Are we to eat with the Estival alares?” Litzia inquired the maid.
“I’m afraid not, Miss,” she said, “Miss Gladiola and Miss Hortensia wish not to be disturbed. While Miss Valerian refuses to leave the sickbay. As for Miss Galanthus and Miss Acis, I am still looking for them.”
Litzia nodded, “Just as well, I too wish to be alone. Bring food to my chamber, please.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The girl promptly left, returning to the door she just came from without a second glance our way.
“Where are you going now?” the wyverness asked.
“To the galley,” I said, “I haven't had a morsel since yesternight.” And this time might be my last, I thought, but did not speak it aloud. And also to spend a little while with Thea. Something like a parting meal, in the depressing sense.
As far as her raised eyebrow betrayed, Litzia appeared offended by the proposal, “No, you may eat in our cabin, the maid will bring foodstuff for us both.”
“Don’t you want to be left alone?”
At this she paused, but not for long, the words came out unabashed: “That I do. But as pledge-sisters, we are one. So come.”
The way she uttered that line with a straight face lent a different dimension to her coldness. She knew no shame even in regard to this stuff. Which was frankly the place I had vainly thought would be her weak spot, seeing how the death of Begonia had affected her. And yet I did not believe she was being sincere in saying it a natural thing to share an intimate cabin with a stranger, would-be pledge-sister or not. In the end, I suppose, one could at once get lonely and want to be left alone.
Without further objection on my part, we took to her, or rather, our chamber now. It was not so grand or large a place – smaller than the cabin where us slaves dwelt. But instead of a score of dirty mattresses, chests, cables, and rags to fill up the place with little space to stretch one’s leg, there were only two clean curtained beds, and nice, functional furniture for the residence of two. One porthole lay between the beds, opening to the dark gray beyond. On top of a vanity table, a lone flower pot stood drinking the light from this small window.
Litzia pulled a chair for me, not so discourteously, then headed to her bed, drew the curtain and began to change. In the room’s other half, I spotted a chest most likely containing Begonia’s possessions; laundry of hers still hung slightly damp and wrinkled on the hangers and a pair of slippers sat awry under her bed. There was little indication from those objects that their late owner would never return. She had risen this morning, put on her tunic and boots then went on deck at the captain’s command, without knowing it would be her last day in the world.
Sitting there with my silent companion beyond the sheer curtain, lost in my thoughts, I wondered what it was like to lose a loved one. I feared it, dreaded it, but I could not truly comprehend it. So obviously different it is from one’s own death. We fear death, but know it would come only once to us, and would not linger to torture us for years and years. Just once and that was it. Death to us Azures is different. We only truly die when left on our own and have our memory eaten away. We had only our identity to call life, as our flesh was made by a curse. Would it be the death of me then, I pondered, if one day I were to go to some place far, far away, then return to a different person? Would Thea think of me as forever lost then, though I stand before her in my own person?
Such strange thoughts swam idly in my head on that cloudy afternoon as I shared a chamber with a wyverness. Much like I was, her mind dwelt in some place not confined between the foreboding walls of the Daybright. Afterwards, we did not converse much even during our meal.
We knew our roles, so we played our part. Hers was to carry through with her decisions, heading to a fight she had dragged me in for her own consolation and perhaps, eventually, rebellion. And mine that of a liar: I must pretend to care, to play the part of her savior in this dark time, an ally and supporter to her unfulfilled justice. Though I did it out of guilt and pity, and saw in her nothing but a sorry stranger, I was to treat her like a friend I dreaded seeing lonely and tormented.
Someone like Thea would better fit the role for her caring nature. By nature, I was not so sensitive a person. All I had were only the years in the world as an azure, all of which onboard the Daybright. Perhaps more mature than a human child, all I had was the company of slaves and azures. Toiling and toiling away with others like me, Thea provided the deepest friendship I had ever known. And I was closer to her than aught. But she was also never vulnerable, never so downtrodden, though the officers treated her as harshly as they did any other slaves. It came to me that I should ask for her help to deal with the wyverness later. That is, of course, if I should survive the coming battle.
I asked Litzia some few questions, out of a feigned concern more than genuine care. She was not so enthusiastic, not for all her craving for friendship in that dark hallway and the days before that. But I thought, perhaps by just being there, I had done much more than enough. I would not venture to risk causing her more pain.
With only a few hours of rest. I did not use Begonia’s bed, but by being able to sit down and relax, I was able to wash away part of my fatigue.
Two hours or more had sped, Litzia rose from her bed and went to the flower pot under the porthole. There, she poked the soil with her finger. “She hadn’t watered the thing,” said the wyverness. Indifferent tone, indifferent gaze. Presently she reached for a pitcher and poured it into the pot. “She said she would water it every day,” unchangingly monotonous, she went on, “but she would never do it before a flight, so that she would have something to return to. Figure it wasn’t good enough reason, huh?”
I said nothing in response to those depressing lines. The leaves had begun to wilt. As I looked on, flimsy petals shook as she rotated the pot. Her face brought close to the pink flowers; for a second I thought she would take a whiff, but she snorted loudly.
Two singular knocks on the door diverted our attention.
“I hope you have rested well,” said the maid when I opened the door, “will you head to the armory now, Misses?”
Litzia nodded. The wyverness bore no arm. She would not want for weapons in the battle, where claws and fangs would suffice. Through a wide staircase, I was brought to a level below the Anemones’ chamber. I wonder if the Hoard were near. I had never set foot near it, and I doubt most people on board had, even the alares.
The armory was a low-ceiling but long cabin. There were enough arms stored and hung in racks to supply a small army, but not as plenty as I had thought. Most alares, perhaps, had their own personal gears. Long blades and polearms made up the majority of the melee selections, for they are the best tools for close-quarter combat on wyvern back. But in a corner, there was a collection of cutlasses, which the quarterdeck guards were often seen armed with. Shields and armor plates lay bundled up on long shelves at the other end of the cabin. My eyes were drawn first, however, to the runestaves and arbalests on the wall. Intricate runes of power engraved on their materials, of fewer quantity than on the rune cannons I was familiar with. But on closer inspection, stranger and bizarre runes caught my eyes.
Beside the armory master and her aides, a familiar woman was browsing the selections as we entered. Robbed in saffron and hair tied in a tail high and thick on her head, she appeared almost an austere priest. And yet only hours ago we had shared a charge in the sickbay, with her in armor and grief.
From her place near the staves, Valerian noticed the maid first, then us second. After a thoughtful moment, she approached us.
“Litzia, isn’t it?” she greeted, “we haven’t had many chances to speak before. And you’re the azure she chose on deck. Hm? The very one who scratched the Lost Azure hierogram?”
Abruptly, her face shifted from me to Litzia, something dawned on it.
“And so we’re pledge-sisters,” said Litzia, “we serve Ala Estival as of today.”
“So it seems,” her eyes glimmered, her voice strained, “and you lost your partner also. I well, I also lost Primula last battle… and my staff to the Underland.” She shook her head, and gloomily she turned to me, “You have never fought nor flown before, have you? Come, I will help you to arms and armor. Have you something in mind already?”
“Thank you,” out of habit, I bowed low, “if possible I don’t want too cumbersome protection, I don’t require much to come back alive.”
“I would not be so confident, though an azure you are,… but that is your choice,” she answered, then muttered thoughtfully, “An azure alaris, that is something I have never heard of before. Do you know how to swing a sword?”
“I have been serving in the gundeck, ma’am.”
“You need not be so formal, we are of the same ala now, and of equal ranks, knight to knight. Now, a nice staff should suit you nicely.”
The available ones were of an arm length, each a simple, smoothly polished staff of hardwood engraved with runes of power.
“Something easy to handle should be good,” said Valerian, “here, try this.”
I was handed one of medium length, round and studded with steel at both ends. Upon it runes of fire and gale were engraved in repeating patterns, bold and large.
“You seem to know the basic of runework,” she remarked as I studied the runes, “just don’t get too crazy with your experiment up there, leave it for a safer flight.” Briefly, the knight instructed me on the meaning and invocation of each rune.
When we finished, I found Litzia where Valerian had been when we entered the room. With both arms she drew a slab of a shield from the shelf. It touched the floor with a dull thud.
“That is certainly too large for my needs,” I told her.
“Then it is large enough for us both,” she said.
I looked at Valerian. The knight, catching Litzia’s eyes, just smiled it away, “It is not my place to argue for you. Have a care, Ala-sisters.”
I had a hunch Valerian was of the same opinion as I regarding the selection of arms. But for one reason or another, the sentiment she shared with Litzia had won out in the end.
For something extra, perhaps more for the sake of it than any real anticipated purpose, I picked out for myself also a dagger. Slaves aren’t permitted weapons so it was the first time I possessed my own. As I hung it on my belt, I was keenly aware that I would not be able to make much use of it. A dagger would not do much against a leviathan at any rate.
The shield Litzia picked out I also tested, but in the end, it was too unwieldy for my frame, and despite her strange insistence, I left it behind.
Fed, rested, and armed, Litzia and I headed to the deck, where our new comrades and the second phase of the hunt awaited.
Leaving the wrecked warfield, Lizia and I ventured into the bright and polished hallways under the quarterdeck, where thoughts of terrors and death, in me at least, had been left behind. Doors to private cabins lined up the wall, knobs and rails coated in a shine, plank walls plastered under damask, and carpets of reddish shades under our soles, all a far cry from the dark cabins for slaves and azures in the waist.
We halted before a door greater than the rest and atop a staircase leading up to the level above. A lonely expression seemed to prevent Litzia from moving to the steps.
Help, timely or not, arrived from behind the door. A servant emerged from the upper floor, lively dining sound reached us from aloft. She greeted us, though not even Litzia seemed to recognize her.
She introduced herself as one of the maids assigned to Ala Estival, Litzia’s current squadron. Her former one, Ala Subsolanus, as I learned later on, had been mostly eliminated in the last battle.
“Are we to eat with the Estival alares?” Litzia inquired the maid.
“I’m afraid not, Miss,” she said, “Miss Gladiola and Miss Hortensia wish not to be disturbed. While Miss Valerian refuses to leave the sickbay. As for Miss Galanthus and Miss Acis, I am still looking for them.”
Litzia nodded, “Just as well, I too wish to be alone. Bring food to my chamber, please.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The girl promptly left, returning to the door she just came from without a second glance our way.
“Where are you going now?” the wyverness asked.
“To the galley,” I said, “I haven't had a morsel since yesternight.” And this time might be my last, I thought, but did not speak it aloud. And also to spend a little while with Thea. Something like a parting meal, in the depressing sense.
As far as her raised eyebrow betrayed, Litzia appeared offended by the proposal, “No, you may eat in our cabin, the maid will bring foodstuff for us both.”
“Don’t you want to be left alone?”
At this she paused, but not for long, the words came out unabashed: “That I do. But as pledge-sisters, we are one. So come.”
The way she uttered that line with a straight face lent a different dimension to her coldness. She knew no shame even in regard to this stuff. Which was frankly the place I had vainly thought would be her weak spot, seeing how the death of Begonia had affected her. And yet I did not believe she was being sincere in saying it a natural thing to share an intimate cabin with a stranger, would-be pledge-sister or not. In the end, I suppose, one could at once get lonely and want to be left alone.
Without further objection on my part, we took to her, or rather, our chamber now. It was not so grand or large a place – smaller than the cabin where us slaves dwelt. But instead of a score of dirty mattresses, chests, cables, and rags to fill up the place with little space to stretch one’s leg, there were only two clean curtained beds, and nice, functional furniture for the residence of two. One porthole lay between the beds, opening to the dark gray beyond. On top of a vanity table, a lone flower pot stood drinking the light from this small window.
Litzia pulled a chair for me, not so discourteously, then headed to her bed, drew the curtain and began to change. In the room’s other half, I spotted a chest most likely containing Begonia’s possessions; laundry of hers still hung slightly damp and wrinkled on the hangers and a pair of slippers sat awry under her bed. There was little indication from those objects that their late owner would never return. She had risen this morning, put on her tunic and boots then went on deck at the captain’s command, without knowing it would be her last day in the world.
Sitting there with my silent companion beyond the sheer curtain, lost in my thoughts, I wondered what it was like to lose a loved one. I feared it, dreaded it, but I could not truly comprehend it. So obviously different it is from one’s own death. We fear death, but know it would come only once to us, and would not linger to torture us for years and years. Just once and that was it. Death to us Azures is different. We only truly die when left on our own and have our memory eaten away. We had only our identity to call life, as our flesh was made by a curse. Would it be the death of me then, I pondered, if one day I were to go to some place far, far away, then return to a different person? Would Thea think of me as forever lost then, though I stand before her in my own person?
Such strange thoughts swam idly in my head on that cloudy afternoon as I shared a chamber with a wyverness. Much like I was, her mind dwelt in some place not confined between the foreboding walls of the Daybright. Afterwards, we did not converse much even during our meal.
We knew our roles, so we played our part. Hers was to carry through with her decisions, heading to a fight she had dragged me in for her own consolation and perhaps, eventually, rebellion. And mine that of a liar: I must pretend to care, to play the part of her savior in this dark time, an ally and supporter to her unfulfilled justice. Though I did it out of guilt and pity, and saw in her nothing but a sorry stranger, I was to treat her like a friend I dreaded seeing lonely and tormented.
Someone like Thea would better fit the role for her caring nature. By nature, I was not so sensitive a person. All I had were only the years in the world as an azure, all of which onboard the Daybright. Perhaps more mature than a human child, all I had was the company of slaves and azures. Toiling and toiling away with others like me, Thea provided the deepest friendship I had ever known. And I was closer to her than aught. But she was also never vulnerable, never so downtrodden, though the officers treated her as harshly as they did any other slaves. It came to me that I should ask for her help to deal with the wyverness later. That is, of course, if I should survive the coming battle.
I asked Litzia some few questions, out of a feigned concern more than genuine care. She was not so enthusiastic, not for all her craving for friendship in that dark hallway and the days before that. But I thought, perhaps by just being there, I had done much more than enough. I would not venture to risk causing her more pain.
With only a few hours of rest. I did not use Begonia’s bed, but by being able to sit down and relax, I was able to wash away part of my fatigue.
Two hours or more had sped, Litzia rose from her bed and went to the flower pot under the porthole. There, she poked the soil with her finger. “She hadn’t watered the thing,” said the wyverness. Indifferent tone, indifferent gaze. Presently she reached for a pitcher and poured it into the pot. “She said she would water it every day,” unchangingly monotonous, she went on, “but she would never do it before a flight, so that she would have something to return to. Figure it wasn’t good enough reason, huh?”
I said nothing in response to those depressing lines. The leaves had begun to wilt. As I looked on, flimsy petals shook as she rotated the pot. Her face brought close to the pink flowers; for a second I thought she would take a whiff, but she snorted loudly.
Two singular knocks on the door diverted our attention.
“I hope you have rested well,” said the maid when I opened the door, “will you head to the armory now, Misses?”
Litzia nodded. The wyverness bore no arm. She would not want for weapons in the battle, where claws and fangs would suffice. Through a wide staircase, I was brought to a level below the Anemones’ chamber. I wonder if the Hoard were near. I had never set foot near it, and I doubt most people on board had, even the alares.
The armory was a low-ceiling but long cabin. There were enough arms stored and hung in racks to supply a small army, but not as plenty as I had thought. Most alares, perhaps, had their own personal gears. Long blades and polearms made up the majority of the melee selections, for they are the best tools for close-quarter combat on wyvern back. But in a corner, there was a collection of cutlasses, which the quarterdeck guards were often seen armed with. Shields and armor plates lay bundled up on long shelves at the other end of the cabin. My eyes were drawn first, however, to the runestaves and arbalests on the wall. Intricate runes of power engraved on their materials, of fewer quantity than on the rune cannons I was familiar with. But on closer inspection, stranger and bizarre runes caught my eyes.
Beside the armory master and her aides, a familiar woman was browsing the selections as we entered. Robbed in saffron and hair tied in a tail high and thick on her head, she appeared almost an austere priest. And yet only hours ago we had shared a charge in the sickbay, with her in armor and grief.
From her place near the staves, Valerian noticed the maid first, then us second. After a thoughtful moment, she approached us.
“Litzia, isn’t it?” she greeted, “we haven’t had many chances to speak before. And you’re the azure she chose on deck. Hm? The very one who scratched the Lost Azure hierogram?”
Abruptly, her face shifted from me to Litzia, something dawned on it.
“And so we’re pledge-sisters,” said Litzia, “we serve Ala Estival as of today.”
“So it seems,” her eyes glimmered, her voice strained, “and you lost your partner also. I well, I also lost Primula last battle… and my staff to the Underland.” She shook her head, and gloomily she turned to me, “You have never fought nor flown before, have you? Come, I will help you to arms and armor. Have you something in mind already?”
“Thank you,” out of habit, I bowed low, “if possible I don’t want too cumbersome protection, I don’t require much to come back alive.”
“I would not be so confident, though an azure you are,… but that is your choice,” she answered, then muttered thoughtfully, “An azure alaris, that is something I have never heard of before. Do you know how to swing a sword?”
“I have been serving in the gundeck, ma’am.”
“You need not be so formal, we are of the same ala now, and of equal ranks, knight to knight. Now, a nice staff should suit you nicely.”
The available ones were of an arm length, each a simple, smoothly polished staff of hardwood engraved with runes of power.
“Something easy to handle should be good,” said Valerian, “here, try this.”
I was handed one of medium length, round and studded with steel at both ends. Upon it runes of fire and gale were engraved in repeating patterns, bold and large.
“You seem to know the basic of runework,” she remarked as I studied the runes, “just don’t get too crazy with your experiment up there, leave it for a safer flight.” Briefly, the knight instructed me on the meaning and invocation of each rune.
When we finished, I found Litzia where Valerian had been when we entered the room. With both arms she drew a slab of a shield from the shelf. It touched the floor with a dull thud.
“That is certainly too large for my needs,” I told her.
“Then it is large enough for us both,” she said.
I looked at Valerian. The knight, catching Litzia’s eyes, just smiled it away, “It is not my place to argue for you. Have a care, Ala-sisters.”
I had a hunch Valerian was of the same opinion as I regarding the selection of arms. But for one reason or another, the sentiment she shared with Litzia had won out in the end.
For something extra, perhaps more for the sake of it than any real anticipated purpose, I picked out for myself also a dagger. Slaves aren’t permitted weapons so it was the first time I possessed my own. As I hung it on my belt, I was keenly aware that I would not be able to make much use of it. A dagger would not do much against a leviathan at any rate.
The shield Litzia picked out I also tested, but in the end, it was too unwieldy for my frame, and despite her strange insistence, I left it behind.
Fed, rested, and armed, Litzia and I headed to the deck, where our new comrades and the second phase of the hunt awaited.
